----
Fleur Delacour is a vain creature. From what Fred and George have told Bill, her behavior was much worse before the events of the Triwizard Tournament. He remembers the first time she spoke to him. She'd been standing nearby as he conversed with one of their employers.
"Zeese goblins. Zey ah vehry… what would you say… barbaric, non?"
"Not very barbaric, no," he'd replied with a good-natured smile. "They're all right when you get used to them."
It had given her pause.
"I am not used to zhem," she'd admitted, a moment later.
Bill had thought she was all right.
Ceux Qui Sont Multilingues
Bill wasn't surprised that Fleur accepted his first invitation to lunch, even if she did regard some of her coworkers with a dubious superiority.
"What's brought you to London, Miss Delacour?" he'd asked her over curry.
"I am here to improove my Eenglish," said Fleur. "I vould like to werk in internashinal relashons. Already I speak German and Eetalion."
"Noble languages," Bill had encouraged. "I'm nearly fluent in Arabic, now. Of course I read some older Egyptian languages: the hieratic and demotic writings, a little Coptic and Greek."
Fleur had warmed up to him even more when she'd learned that.
Interlude
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Leçons Anglaises
"Vhat did zey mean by zat, 'thick as thieves'? It is an idiom?"
"Good friends," Bill supplies. "'Bon ami,' yeah?."
"Yes!" replies Fleur, brightening as she understands. "We say 'comme cul et chemise,' 'like bottom and shirt.'"
Fleur pauses, fixing Bill with an amused look.
"But cul is not so polite, so don't say it for 'derrière' trying to show off."
Bill grins.
"Right, then."
They take their seat at the café table, Bill picking up the menu, Fleur producing a copy of her English textbook L'Anglais from her shoulder bag. Bill quizzes her as they wait for their meal.